


Dragon Dreams

by waffs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffs/pseuds/waffs
Summary: A dream.  She’d had a dragon dream.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not really a writer but this season was a huge tragedy and this idea kept spinning in my head. Hope this serves as a nice distraction from the misery that was this season, it did for me. 
> 
> Not sure how many chapters this will be but I’ll keep writing.

_Lips.  All she could feel was the familiar touch of his rough lips burning fire through her own, its heat lighting the dark recesses of her empty heart.  It’s the first time in weeks she feels less alone. Her eyes remain closed as she moves her lips against his, muscle memory leading her hands to grasp at what were once their usual positions at his side and neck pulling him closer. Warmth. Love. Home._   _She never wants to let these feelings go. Never wants to let him go._

 

_Suddenly, deep pain fills her. The pain of punctured flesh. The kiss ends and the warmth of his body separates from hers.  Gasps. She hears gasps forced out of a body as its chest rises and falls, searching for breath as it trembles in shock. Its mine. My body. Faces flash in her mind as despair fills her._

_Drogo. Rhaego. Barristan. Viserion. Jorah. Rhaegal. Missandei._

 

_With every loss she felt lighter, like there was nothing tethering her to reality, nothing keeping her soul inside her body.  One by one every string was cut, and with them she could feel her purpose slipping._

_Ever since Missandei’s loss she’d been numb; she thought her heart had endured all the pain it was capable of.  She was wrong.  The heaviness of loss and betrayal sprang back into with a vengeance, stinging as it sank deeper that it had before._

_Her vision is getting blurry now, and she can hear the thumping of her pierced heart and the rushing of blood in her veins._

_It’s then that she remembers that which she’d been trying to forget.  The baby. All the strength she has left she uses to lift her arm towards her stomach, feeling the slight swell of the life she’d been growing.  She could have been a mother._

_Her eyes flash back to Jon, tears running down his ash filled face. All she can see are his eyes. Grey, like a gathering storm.  Jon. She should have known he’d be her ruin._

_Her legs begin to buckle beneath her. The Throne.  She gave everything for that fucking throne.  Her eyes fluttered close.  She sinks the darkness that had been creeping. She feels no pain. She’s tired and weary. It’s finally time for her to rest._

\----

 

Dany wakes up with a jerk of her body, her blood rushing from her head as she rises.  She clenches soft fabric in her hands as her eyes blink to escape the fuzziness from lack of use.  As her vision restores she’s faced with the sight of dark wood panels alight with the glow of sunrise sneaking through window panes. A boat.  She’s on a boat.

 

As her frantic breathing slows, she smells the ocean, and hears waves paired with the sounds of footsteps and voices of shipmen.

 

With a faint knock on the door, she’s gifted with the sight of her dearest companion.  Her only friend. Alive.

 

“Missandei,” She breathes. A dream.  She’d had a dragon dream. 

 

“Your grace” Missandei replies, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards in a gentle smile, “I came to assist you in getting ready this morning.  We arrive at Dragonstone today.”

 

Dany reaches for her hand, letting their fingers tangle together as she convinces herself _this_ is what’s real.  “Dany”, she corrects gently, “call me Dany.”

 

“Dany”, Missandei repeats.

 

 _“Dany.  You’re my queen.”_ Words in that Northern accent, rough and deep, springing from his lips. Rejection. Treachery. Betrayal. She feels ache in her chest reignite as the memories, no, the dreams take hold.  _No._ _No._

 

She takes a deep breath, forcing her chest to fill with heavy ocean air and exhales, returning to the present to be faced with Missandei’s concerned gaze. 

 

“I’ve never heard anyone call you that before.”  At the sound of Missandei’s melodic voice, she feels the memories from her dream recede.  

 

“The last person who called me that was my brother, Viserys.” She explains, “But I want to replace all those bad memories I have of it with good ones.  I can think of no one better to speak that name to me than you.” Missandei’s face softens in understanding, and her eyes alight, as if a gift was given.  She then begins moving around the cabin to prepare everything needed to get Dany ready for the day.

 

Her eyes close at the soothing feeling of fingers running through her hair, as Missandei creates intricate braids. Anchored. She feels anchored to the ground. She feels safe.  She feels tremendous love and affection for what she has, and gratitude for what feels like a second chance.  And with these feelings she swears to herself she’ll strengthen these precious bonds she has, and do anything to prevent her dragon dreams from coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She remembers betrayal. It’s an old friend of hers. This time she’s not taking any chances. She will not gamble the lives of the people she loves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of boring chapter, but important to lay the foundation for more interesting chapters to come.

She remembers walking into the map-room, her fingers running along the table and she walked towards the blinding light.  She remembers how impatient she felt upon the realization of how close she was to achieving her life’s goal.  Her destiny. Now, she stands feet away from the table, hands clasped together in front of her, fingers digging into her palms, and letting the sharp pain distract her from her vivid dreams.

 

She remembers betrayal.  It’s an old friend of hers.  This time she’s not taking any chances.  She will not gamble the lives of the people she loves. 

 

“Torgo Nudho, jaelan dovaogēdy naejot mīsagon Missandei.” (I want unsullied to defend Missandei) She says, feeling the safety of a language only her most trusted know.  She gets a sharp nod in response before he marches out of the room, likely to assign men to the task.

 

“vali kesīr daor sagon pāstan” (men here cannot be trusted) She explains to Missandei.  “yn konīr issi ra istiti gaomagon”  (but there is work to be done).

 

She then turns to Rakharo, “Blood of my blood.  I want at least 100 of your weakest fighters to mine the cave I pointed out upon arrival.  The walls are made of dragon glass.  I want them to begin mining as much of the glass as possible.  Create shifts of as many men as possible so that mining can be done at all hours.  Fill crates with the mined glass to be brought on boats.”

 

\---

 

Thunder rumbles, the winds howl, and angry waves crash upon the shores of Dragonstone.

 

She stood at the head of the mapped table, palms down, envisioning the most successful strategy in light of her dragon dreams, “I always thought this would be a homecoming.  Doesn’t feel like home,” she says, speaking the familiar words once again. 

 

_She dusted her fingertips against the pommel of the throne._

_The Iron Throne. The symbol that had represented all she had ever desired, that had represented home_.

 

 _For years, home had been a place, the place her blood had built and the lands and the people they had ruled over.  For years, she’d dreamt of how right it would feel to return home, that she’d finally feel that sense of belonging that had always been missing no matter she went. But now, all she remembers are the frigid receptions and the judgmental eyes, the scorn where she’d expected belonging_ , _the emptiness that filled her heart where she’d expected fullness._  

 

_The sense of fulfillment and belonging she’d always expected would greet her here, at the Iron Throne was fully absent, its absence making the achievement even more hollow and empty._

_For years, returning home had been a tangible goal that had grounded her, that had driven her. It had been what allowed her to rationalize all the sacrifices she’d made.  She now had everything she’d always wanted, but for the first time in a long time, she truly felt she had nothing.  Now she could say with absolute certainty, the sacrifices she’d made weren’t worth it._

_She wasn’t sure what home was anymore.  But this wasn’t it._

 

“Cersei controls fewer than half the seven kingdoms.  The lords of Westeros despise her.  Even before your arrival, they plotted against her.” Varys says.  Daenerys ignores the words of flattery from the eunuch meant to endear him to her.

 

She picks a sculpture of a dragon, pondering. “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back he would have invaded Kings Landing already.”

 

“Conquering Westeros would be easy for you, but you’re not here to be queen of the ashes.”  Tyrion speaks. “We can take the seven kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse.”

 

No, she thought.  Not again. But I’m also not here to be queen at the cost of losing everything, everyone.  How do I take the seven kingdoms without wasting time?  How do I fight the enemy to the north without giving the south time to gain power?

 

“With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south,” Tyrion continues.

 

“I never properly thanked you for that.” She says, turning towards Varys. 

 

“They joined our side because they believe in you.”

 

“You served my father, lord Varys.” She replies, “and then you served the Usurper who overthrew him.  But you didn’t serve him long.  However, in that time it was you who sent assassins to murder me and my idiot brother, whom you favored at the time.  It seems to me Lord Varys that your loyalty is questionable.  When a monarch loses your favor, you conspire to find the next one, serving whoever you must to keep _yourself_ alive.  I’m sure you believe that you are serving the people who suffer under unjust rulers, but I believe you are only serving yourself.”

 

“Much of what you say is true, Your Grace.  However, I do truly seek to serve the people who do not come from great houses, who come from nothing, sold as slaves, and live in gutters and alleys.  I do not offer blind allegiance, but I do truly believe in you.”  As he speaks all she can remember are the whispers between him and Tyrion, whispers of madness, plots to restore power to the true heir to the iron throne, and the stench of poison and betrayal.

 

“If you ever think I’m failing the people, come to me and no other. Look me in the eyes and tell me with words.  You’ll not conspire behind my back as you have others.  In exchange, I’ll do you no harm.  I care not for the taste of the truth so long as I am given it.”

 

“I promise.” He replies. 

 

“Right now your promises mean little and less.  I do not believe in giving trust blind trust, Lord Varys. Earn it.  Show me you’re worthy of it.” She says strongly, not mincing her words. “And before we get on with it, I wish to speak to all of you who serve as my advisors.” She speaks, looking at the faces around the table.  “While I value the wisdom each of you possess, and always weigh the choices and consider the opinions given to me, I make the final call.  I ultimately carry the weight and the responsibility of the decisions made within this room, and their repercussions.  Do not mistake me ignoring advice for madness.  I do not take any decision likely, and for those that you do not understand, all will be revealed in time.”  With that, an unsullied captain walks in, speaking to Grey worm in low tones.

 

“My Queen, a red priestess from As’shai has come to see you.”

 

\---

 

The imposing metal doors creaked open, as Daenerys and her advisors walk into the room to meet their guest.

 

“Dārȳs Daenerys. Dohaeriros istin, sindita liortā, qilonta ozbartā. Riglose Belmoti Pryjati

rhaenan.” The red priestess greets.       

(Queen Daenerys. I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains)

 

“Meli Voktyssy Mīrīnī lyks mazverdagon beldis. Kesīr drējī jiorilaks. Skoroso jemele brōzia?” Daenerys replies.

(The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here. What is your name?)

 

“Melisandrose brōziks.”

(My name is Melissandre)

 

“ao dohaeragon se Āeksiot Ōño.  Daor naenie rijībagon zirȳla kesīr.”

 (you serve the lord of light.  Not many worship him here.)

 

“sesīr lī bona gaomagon daor follow zirȳla kostagon dohaeragon.”

(Even those that do not follow him can serve)

 

“skoros gaomas aōha āeksio jaelagon hen nyke?”

(What does your lord want from me?)

 

“Bosys bantis amāzis, se morghor zijomy amāzis. Meri kīvio dārilaros ōz maghagon kostas.”

(The long night is coming, and the dead come with it. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn)

 

“The prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.” She translates.  “Se ao pāsagon bisa refers naejot nyke?”

(you believe this refers to me?)

 

“pāsan emā iā role naejot tymagon,”(I believe you have a role to play) “as does another.  The King in the North, Jon Snow.” She continues, in common tongue for the benefit of some of her advisors.  “Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you the things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.”

 

Daenerys hesitates, heart thumping loudly in her chest at the sound of his name. She clasps her hands together hands fisting and biting at the skin, “Why summon him, when we can go to him instead.” Daenerys responds, walking towards her chambers with Missandei, Greyworm, and a few unsullied in tow, leaving puzzled looks in their wake.

 

\---

 

“Dany, why would we go up north? Are you alright? You have seemed quite troubled since the morning of our arrival on Dragonstone two days ago.” Missandei speaks in Valyrian.

 

“You are so observant my friend,” Dany responds, with an amused tilt at the corner of her mouth, “Do you remember me telling you about Dragon Dreams?—an ability of prophetic dreams those with the blood of the dragon sometimes have?”

 

“Yes,” Missandei nods, remembering the dreams Dany told her of the birth of her three dragons, “But what dreams did you have that have affected you so?”

 

“I dreamt of my destruction, our destruction” She says, before explaining all the events that occurred and the deep losses felt.  “I want to use this knowledge to change course. We must defeat Cersei now, before she can gain an advantage over us.  But we must also go north to defeat the Night King.”

 

“We will not allow this to occur.  I will not allow the losses of Missandei of the Isle of Naath and Daenerys mother of Dragons.”  Grey worm speaks firmly.    

 

“Thank you, my friend.  I’m hoping to conclude this war against Cersei within the month, and send supplies and forces up north immediately to get an earlier start than before.  I’d like to task you with the creation of armor and swords made of dragon glass for both Missandei and I.  They must be light enough for us to wield.  I’d also request for you to train us yourself, as we must be able to protect ourselves.”

 

“It would be my honor.  I would like to begin now.” Grey Worm says, asking to be excused. With a nod, Grey Worm leaves, the unsullied, shutting the door behind him and resuming their guard.

 

“Missandei, I want you to send a raven north telling them that we will head north to help them fight the great war against our common enemy in a months time.  Tell them that I shall bring my three dragons and armies of over 100,000 fighting men in addition to as much dragon glass as can be mined before we depart.  Inform them that the Dothraki will be taking the Kings road and that the Unsullied will sail to White Harbor.  In exchange for our help, we only request the protection of our men and for representatives of the North to escort them safely to Winterfell.”

 

“I will do that at once Dany.  Is there anything else?”

 

“Begin figuring out how much food stores we have and how much we will require from the reach.  Also, start preparing for the colder weather, our people will need much warmer clothing, and supplies.”

 

\---

“We will lay siege to the capital, surrounding the city on all sides. But we won't use Dothraki and Unsullied. Cersei will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.” Tyrion speaks, addressing everyone convened around the map table. Of them stood Daenerys’ advisors, Missandei, Greyworm, and Varys, as well as their allies who had just arrived, Ellaria Sand of Dorne, Olenna Tyrell of Highgarden, and Yara and Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Isles. 

“And I suppose we're providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria questions.

 

“You are. Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King's Landing. The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersei.”

 

“So, your master plan is to use our armies. Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?” She responds, her words biting and skeptical.

 

“The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades, House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

 

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day.” Yara asserts, her brother Theon standing meekly at her side.  

 

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms.” Tyrion responds.

 

“It's called war. You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

 

“That's enough,” Daenerys says authoritatively, leaving no question as to who was in charge, “Lord Tyrion is Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect.  I have however, made some changes to this plan of his.   We will not be taking Casterly Rock.  There is no use for it.  The only Lannisters of value are in the red keep. The actions of the Iron Fleet, Dornish, and Tyrells stand.  However, I with my three dragons will stand as guard flying above the fleet.   Lady Olenna, you will send a raven ahead with orders to mobilize the Tyrell army as well as orders to collect all non essential food-stores onto carts to be transported.  The Dothraki will travel with you as guards and lead the Tyrell army to Kings Landing. Additionally, there will be no siege, I am a dragon and I will take what’s mine.”

 

“Your grace, we already agreed that the siege on kings landing is the best course of action. You said you didn’t want to be queen of the ashes.”

 

“Nor will I be.  My dragons will burn down the gates of Kings Landing, and clear the way for the Dornish and Tyrell Armies to infiltrate the Red Keep and remove Cersei from power.  At that point, Olenna Tyrell to hold the Iron Throne in my stead.”

 

“But Your Grace”

 

“Enough Lord Hand.  I’ve made my decision.”

“I am glad to see you ignoring the advice of clever men, and I would be pleased to hold the Iron throne for you, but where will you be?” Olenna asked from her seat across the table. 

 

“I will be sending my armies up North to fight the great war. Up north exists the greatest enemy Westeros has ever faced, an Undead army of over 100,000, that do not eat or sleep, and can only be defeated by fire, Valyrian steel, and dragonglass.”

 

“That sounds like madness!” Olenna replies, with Ellaria and Yara in agreement.

 

“Unfortunately, it is not.  Should you desire proof, there exist carvings in the deep recesses of the caves off the beach.  I can have someone show all of you prior to your departure.” Daenerys replies, “It is not my interest to force any of your armies to join my cause.  Instead, I would have them maintain the peace of Kings Landing and protect my people here on Dragonstone, and the people of Dorne and Highgarden.  Do I have your support?” Daenerys asks. 

 

“You have mine.”

 

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you all, we depart on the morrow.” effectively ending the meeting, “Greyworm, Missandei, if you wouldn’t mind showing Olenna and Ellaria the cave drawings?”, he nods before ushering them out. “Yara and Theon, may I have a word with you two alone?” She asks, as Varys, Tyrion, and Missandei along with her Unsullied Guard exited. 

 

“What can we do for you, Queen Daenerys?” Yara asks.

 

“It is my understanding that Theon was fostered and raised in the north with the Starks.”

 

“Yes” Theon responds, eyes hollow and plagued with memories.

                                                    

“While I meant what I said and do not intend to force any of my allies to fight in this war, I wanted to see if it was within your interest to bring some of you and your sisters men with me to defend the north from those who would harm it.”

 

“Ned Stark was more of a father to me than our own father was.” Theon responds, “but I betrayed his memory, and his family.”

 

“I’ve heard of what you speak.  However, it seems to me that you are both a Greyjoy and a Stark.  If it is redemption which you seek, I can think of no better opportunity.”  She responds gently.

 

Theon looked to his sister his body betraying his uncertainty, the struggle between his identity of Stark and Greyjoy still ever-present. “If you wish to fight for them after Cersei is deposed, I am willing to give you half of our men.” Yara offers. 

 

“I accept.” 

 

“So it will be.”


	3. Chapter 3

She stands on the shores of Dragonstone alongside Missandei and Greyworm, staring out at the hundreds of ships with massive black sails loaded with the Dothraki and their horses, ready to take them to the mainland.

 

“Rhakaro. You are to escort Lady Olenna home, and then escort her Tyrell army to Kings Landing. Be prepared for a fight. The Lannister army will be coming to sack Highgarden. Defeat them and kill any who refuse to surrender. Be aware that Olenna’s people do not know how to fight, it is your duty to protect them.” She instructs in their harsh tongue.

 

“Yes Khaleesi. We will take the lead.” He says proudly.

 

“You will have the upper-hand, the lands of the reach are much like the great grass sea.” She informs, before turning her attention to Olenna. “I wish you a safe journey and look forward to seeing you at the gates of Kings Landing. We will make Cersei pay for what she has done.” She says, before watching Olenna board the rowboat that was pushed through the firm sand and into ocean waves.

 

“Your Grace, we thank you again for personally escorting us and the Iron Fleet to Sunspear.” Ellaria says as she, Yara, and Theon approach.

 

“What kind of queen would I be if I am not willing to fight for those who would fight for me?” Daenerys responds, “Your support is much appreciated, and I have every intention in guaranteeing minimal losses to both me and my allies.”

 

“We are proud to serve such a queen.” Yara replies. “Shall we get on with it?”

 

“Yes. As soon as your ships depart, Drogo, Rhaegal, Viserion and I will follow.”

 

 

\--

 

 

She remembers the melancholy she’d used to feel in chest while riding her dragons in the skies; the great joy and the deep despair. Flying gave her distance from the issues that never ceased, it gave her silence—not just from others but from her own mind. When she flew, her worries and doubts disappeared, leaving only sounds of flapping wings and rumbles from her children, and the rapid thrumming of her blood in her veins reminding her she was alive, she was free.

 

Flying cemented her destiny in her own mind. She was the last Targaryen, the last dragon rider. The only one who could break the wheel. There was no power quite like flying with her children, no power like the ability to burn those who would harm others.

 

However, flying also cemented the fact that she’d never belong, a feeling that she’d always seemed to carry. Before she had anything at all, her bloodline and the promise of the power it could bring kept her isolated, seen as a piece to be wagered or sold. When she’d finally achieved power she was just as destined to a life alone, a life of giving orders, a life where everyone around her spoke with careful tongue and guarded heart. No matter her position, she was always a woman with no equal. Her power and status always served as an impenetrable trench that kept her isolated from others. Alone. She was destined to be alone.

 

As she flies on Drogon with Rhaegal and Viserion trailing on her tails, she remembers how willing she had been to trade family, and happiness for the power to take back her home, and break the wheel that crushed the weak as it turned. She remembers fighting the weakness she’d perceived in the depths of her heart. A heart that yearned to be ordinary, that yearned to trade wealth for friends, exchange her blood for a family, and instead of her name she’d free herself of the darkness in her heart that came from years of loneliness making itself a home in her bones.

 

Most of all she remembers the taste on her tongue of believing, just for a second that she could have it all. She remembers Jon Snow, flying behind her with raven curls and raven cloak blowing every which way. She remembers feeling like she’d finally met her match. And she remembers watching herself lose everything piece by piece until nothing was left.

 

Her heart is a twisted place. It is made of the darkest black and filled with despair. Despair from heartbreak, loss, betrayal, love, and yearning. Yearning for warmth that felt like sunlight, warmth that came from the love she had for him, warmth that came from feeling seen and accepted. Warmth that came from a true connection to the soul of another, from belonging for the first time in her entire life. Yearning for something she knows she can never have again.

 

Her heart is an open wound that aches as if she had been stabbed in truth. Ever since her dream she’s felt the foundation she’s built everything off crumble beneath her. Her mind is tortured with preventing her dreams from coming true, and her heart is tortured with who she is, and if she still even wants the same things she’d been willing to trade everything for. All she knows is that she has people depending on her, people who will die if she abandons everything now for the house with the red door and the lemon trees.

 

The bitter part of her wants to leave the north to die. She wants the Starks to suffer for taking her and all she had, and spitting her out at the end. She wants to leave Jon with those he chose over her, to leave him for abandoning her when she needed him most. The bitter part of her doesn’t care if the army of the dead takes her and all of Westeros so long as the North goes down first. But the other part of her, the part of her that still loves Jon Snow wants to know he exists in this world, even if he can’t exist in hers.

 

Her mind snaps back as she sees small flames flickering from afar. She conjures the attention of her sons and leads them away from the fleet she’d been flying circles around, and towards the Iron Fleet led by Euron Greyjoy.

 

“Dracarys.”

 

 

\--

 

 

She leaves nothing behind but 1,000 charred sinking ships. She lands drogon on the bow of the main ship holding Yara and Ellaria informing them of her departure. She tells them they should be safe but should stay vigilant before taking off towards Casterly Rock.

 

When she lands at Dragonstone the next night, she sleeps knowing that the numbers of her enemies are less than they had been, but dreams of Jon still come.


End file.
